


Angel in BLU Jeans

by Lynn_StarDragon



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: All Snipers are derps, But only a little, Canon-Typical Violence, Cute, M/M, not really a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn_StarDragon/pseuds/Lynn_StarDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is but a song while Love is a battlefield. One RED Sniper has just become a casualty of Cupid. Thankfully this tale has a cheery beat, though things are never that simple for Mercs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel in BLU Jeans

**Author's Note:**

> Songs inspire me... and I role as a BLU Sniper.... Is all you need know.
> 
> Beta'd by Vihtalaini.

 

Another day, another dollar--actually another million dollars per battle for those who worked for Reliable Excavation Demolition and Builders League United respectively. Let it never be said that the nine man wrecking teams were not well compensated for their daily routine of bloody death and mayhem. Day in, day out, all across the non-Australian world, jumping from base to base in their mission to murder each other for company secrets.

Only... that wasn't what their contracts said anymore. Redmond and Blutarch were dead. Gone. Cases closed and sealed and thrown into bottomless pits of doom. Now their contracts were held directly by Saxton Hale himself and the fights between them were... for fun and profit. Their orders now were to test new hats and technology--it just so happened that said technology was designed to murder each other with the same brutality and cheer as was the previous norm before the Grey Mann debacle and his robots. The hats were still pretty nice though, they did make an otherwise gloomy day bright especially when you had been waiting for just the right one to restock.

....Maybe he was biased.

Or been at this job for too long.

There was a time he'd been one of the most feared killers world over, following the work and asking no questions as long as the cash was good. His three step philosophy had served him well enough to keep him alive if on the run. As a citizen of Australia he could, quite literally, get away with murder. The local authorities didn't really like that and there were a few shady families still gunning for his head. In the end getting picked up by RED was as much for the pay as to get him and his rifle out of hot water.

He had traded in his name (well _a_ name) and reputation for the title 'Sniper' and steady work. After the life he'd lived he could well appreciate the anonymity. Sure the blokes he was killing now got back up again a few minutes later but there were no hard feelings. It was a job, just business. They were all professionals here, they had standards to uphold. Personal grudges would just sour the whole tour, make everyone's lives hell and War was already a bitter place.

He knew how revenge could ruin a man, devour him from the inside out. His teammates he tried to get along with the best he could, help them where he could. It was easier before the transfers started. Hopping from base to base wasn't so bad when it was the same group of people moving together, getting to know each other through hardships and shared experiences.

But then the companies started with single transfers (back before the robots started), loaning people out to other bases where personnel was stretched thin. He realized it had to be happening with the BLUs too when one day he killed a Medic over at the Granary that he recognized from the Gravel Pit. Then there was the Engineer over at Saw Mill that he knew he'd watched his Scout take down over at Kong King. When he'd mentioned it casually to his team ( _his_ team, not just the people we was working with for the week) their reaction had culminated in his Spy just giving a snort and then muttering something disparaging against both companies under his breath.

Even knowing that he'd jumped back into the work like nothing had changed, because nothing really had changed.... Until the robots, then the Zombies and the contracts being rewritten to what they were now which had changed things. There had been resentment brewing, there had been real hate at times. It wasn't gone after the change, slates weren't wiped clean but for the new hires it was harder to get them into the standing feuds. A few of the classes more or less gave them up and they dwindled down to personal things but that was where the transfers actually had a positive effect: getting people away from each other long enough for wounds to scab over and heads to cool. Really, they were all just people. They all had to eat and they could all walk away from the job if it became too much for them. The Mann brothers would have gladly worked them to death, Saxton Hale didn't see the need to do more then make them sign a non-disclosure agreement.

And really the job was too fun, too challenging, too rewarding to give up! Where else would he find people who could learn his style, adapt and compensate for his talents. It wasn't always stand still and pull the trigger, he couldn't sit in his nest all day unless he wanted a knife in the back. Hell, without the constant demands to capture intel and company secrets he could take more risks, really get out onto the field and show off his non-shooting skills.

Really, who would expect _him_ to slide up behind **them** and dig his Kukiri in? Okay, getting lit up by the BLU Pyros wasn't much fun but that was the price of getting an up close kill. And if Mann Co. was just going to offer him more accessories with no new weapons it was up to him to make his own fun.

That didn't always work out well for him. Case in point today, at the Harvest base of all places.

He'd taken a corner hard, switching his rifle out for the squirming and growling loaf of bread hermetically sealed in a specimen jar. Unfortunately he'd gotten clipped by the bloody Spook earlier and then just ducked back before a sentry rained misery on him. He was a bit banged up but nothing a kit or medi-pack wouldn't cure. He just needed to find his way around the damn maze to grab one. (Never mind that everyplace that wasn't home was a damn maze, he'd still gotten turned around.) Instead he'd stumbled out into the open where all of his instincts had gone haywire. Open spaces meant danger, it meant being vulnerable. He needed cover...

Only this bunch of blowhards didn't have an enemy Sniper of their own...

Hell with it, there hadn't been any pill bottles back the way he'd come. With a quick glance around for shimmers in the air or a telltale blue lazar dot, he bolted forward to leg it into the next building. If he could just make it, the standalone building on his team's side of the battlefield, he'd even have a good view of the capture point. He might not have been the fastest running, but it wasn't like he was wearing a cozy camper.

Just as he reached the shadow of the building he felt it, the sensation of eyes on him. Normally he would have just continued running but he'd lived so long because he'd learned a few things. Once the sensation started he dropped into a sliding crouch and once his momentum and inertia were both spent he twisted around to start scanning for whoever had eyes on him. This feeling though, it would have to be someone like him. Meaning a transfer! It made a wicked grin split his face and he thought of all the fun he could have with an inexperienced marksman.

Then he caught it, the slight flash of reflected light off of a sighting scope. He looked up and...

Whoa.

Oh, oh, oooooohhhhhhhh, that was not a standard rifle and the _boy_ holding it was clearly not what he'd been expecting either. Perhaps he would be playing teacher in more ways than one...

Sniper didn't have long to admire the other aiming at him before he felt a familiar burn in his chest. He looked down to see a darker shade of red spreading over his shirt just where it peeked out from his vest.

Bugger all, sure they didn't exchange names in this business, but he hadn't had a chance to learn anything about the mystery BLU, other than he was a crack shot with a sense of humor. (Or maybe it was the universe making fun of him...) He could really lo--like a guy of that sort.

Too bad they worked for different companies and not all roads led to Rome. Different songs for different people, he supposed...

That was the last coherent thought he had, and his last breath, before the black swept over him. Respawn picked him up not long after from the way things felt. Of course the first thought in his head after his heart started up again was of the last thing he'd been thinking: he really, really liked the idea of getting to know the new guy.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by Scout screaming into the com-link about how brutal his (surprising) death had been. It looked to be that he was the only witness to the marksman's death and even then he hadn't seen the culprit, only the aftermath. The story had started during the match as one Soldier that had rocket jumped away before the kid could clobber him. After the round it became two Rocket Jumping Soldiers and a Heavy who had vanished around a corner. Somehow that had turned into a handful of Soldiers, three massive Heavies and more shimmering cloaks of murderous Spies then the ankle-bitter could count.

At dinner that night he got to hear about what had happened from Scout again. From the way he told the story lately it was like a river of blood had been flowing out of him to pool at his feet. The damage was so phenomenal that it had caused everyone who saw it to come running to the scene, where he'd been shot down in cold blood and was nothing but a riddled mess of holes.

And Sniper smirked as he thought to himself, not bothering to correct any of the rumors the boy was spreading. He had been shot through the heart (and he was to blame) by an angel, of all things, and one who wore BLU jeans.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Three weeks later and his team was still at the Harvest but that BLU boy hadn't been back. Sniper had pulled up the roster for that fateful day only to find four enemy snipers on the BLU side for the match. Dammit all, how the hell was he going to find anyone like this?

His thoughts were so distracted that he only just missed crashing into his teammates as they all pulled up short.

"Whoa!"

"--Oh!"

"Oh?"

"Oh... sorry about that gents," Sniper nodded to both Demoman and Spy.

The resident explosives expert had just laughed. "Ach, 'twern't nothing, ye just need ta get yer head outta the clouds."

"I have to agree," the espionage agent continued, "you have been a bit... _distracted_ lately."

Now wasn't this a fine predicament to be in? "It's nothin', honest." He'd have to nip this in the bud right quick.... And, wonder of wonders, he might have been talking to the two best people to help him. "Though, if it was somthin', I'd have to deal with it sooner rather than later."

"Sound planning," Spy had suspiciously raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking him to either make his intentions clear or get out of their way.

"Might want just a bit of a second opinion of the situation though. Before dealing with it." He mentally sighed in relief as Spy seemed to clue in that whatever he wanted to talk about needed to be kept private. The masked man nodded in the direction he and Demo had been previously walking and the three of them continued on.

The Scott, however, was mildly confused. "Are we still gonna--"

"My intentions and our destination has not changed, only that we will be entertaining discussion first." At Sniper's confounded look he only smirked devilishly.

Okay then, maybe he didn't want to know. Of course Spy was making it really hard not to guess what activities he and Demo were probably going to get up to once he left them in peace. Bloody Spook, he was glad this one was on the same side as him. "I'll try not to eat up all your time with my woes."

"That would be greatly appreciated, amigo."

"Aye, though," the demolitionist turned his good eye onto him, "what's on yer mind that's had ya shooting sideways fer the last few days?"

Sniper sighed and shifted his gaze off the other men. Well... no one else was around, he was talking to Spy and Scout wasn't the subtle type so they'd hear the little hooligan approach....

Bugger all, he didn't want to know if they were going to Demo's bunker or Spy's... lair. "Tryin' to get a match up with that kid who took me out the other day."

"Ah," Spy's face cleared as understanding dawned, "revenge is a dish I know well and have sampled quite often." Or he wildly mistook the marksman's intentions. Sure, that worked too. "I've even perfected a few, shall we say, 'flavors'. Perhaps the consummate professional is ready to partake?"

"Och," Demo had wrapped an arm around the suited man's ribs, "don't frighten the lad off. He's nevah had it bafore and ye'r making it sound like we're naught but vicious beasties."

"Nope, nothin' of the sort." Dammit, he hadn't wanted to come out and say something he'd regret later. "More like, well, bluntly need some advice." Now both of the other men were looking at him as if he had a screw loose. Bloody hell, he was cocking this up right quick. Nothing for it but to bite the bullet and pray things didn't go pare shaped. "Ya know how ye'r with that one BLU's mum? And Demo, you were together with that one Soldier for a ways?"

Spy's eyes widened fractionally and his eyebrows were in danger of crawling up under his Balaclava. (Well damn, he really must have been comfortable around both of them to have let that much of his emotions show.) Demo had sputtered fiercely and disentangled himself before his wild gesticulations would inadvertently hurt anyone. "Are ye mad boy?! I, mean.... No. Never. I, am... not at all. Interested. In. BLUs. And, never, ever... EVAH, had one fer... a friend."

The forced tone was painful on its own, but the way his eye wildly scanned for surveillance devices made him and Spy cringe. He took pity on the Scrumpy addled man. "Look, Demo... war's over. You remember? Hale holds our contracts now? He don't care, actually supports us all being friendly?" Really, the man had even openly sold wedding and engagement rings to the mercs to give to, well... other mercs.

Demo had actually gone still and quiet at that, before tuning his full attention on the gunman. "That... wasn't a fever dream?"

"No."

"Nah, mate."

The Scott had blinked hard, looked at the bottle in his hand and realized, "I need ta be sober more often."

"Indeed, it could only help your performance." Not bothering to clarify what he meant, Spy had turned to Sniper with a cool smile. "As for my own exploits, you need not know all the details, though I suppose you would be more interested in, ah, _dominating_ your quarry rather than a quick revenge kill?"

"If you mean it in more of a sexually explicit than physical violence sort of way, then yes." He'd smirked remorselessly. 

Spy's nose wrinkled in distaste. "There's no need to be so crass."

Sniper laughed, "There's no need fer me to beat around the bush. All I wanted to know--from both of you--is... how did, or do ya make it work? How did you meet that kid's mum? How did you meet your Soldier buddy?" He hesitated before asking his next set of questions, not entirely sure he wanted the answers.

"I met her," Spy paused to choose his words carefully, "outside of work. We talked. Some of it was serious, most of it not, all of it pleasant. It went from there."

"Bully you then," the marksman turned to the third man standing. "An' you?"

Demo shrugged, "Met him at a baseball game... outside of work. Thick as thieves we were. Went out brawling every weekend we could until... well, things happened. Stupid we were."

"Well, everyone knows the truth now?" Sniper offered hopefully.

"Aye, that they do lad. Still," the explosives expert casually brushed the previous topic aside like so much dust, clearly signaling the end of that part of the conversation. "The point remains ya need ta get yer, well, what do we call him?"

"A person of interest," Spy helpfully suggested. "And you will want to approach him in a neutral place, which entails being off the clock."

"Off base would help too," Demo added. "Not like everyone has their own mobile home tha way you do, so you can't exactly go knocking on his door to invite him for tea." He'd started to chuckle at that and Spy had smirked a little as well.

Only Sniper didn't find it funny. The kid was the same profession as himself, meaning he probably would have his own or a company van like he did...

The others seemed to notice his somber attitude and quieted quickly. "Sniper?" Spy had prompted him.

The gunman looked up, but didn't say anything.

Spy narrowed his eyes. "This BLU you have an interest in... you're already planning on how to visit him. On base even."

"Maybe, yeah." Curse Spy for being able to read him and the situation so well.

The masked man had hissed while Demo muttered something about the Sniper being 'hopeless'. "I do not know what you are thinking, but a piece of advice: Stay away from the BLU Medics." He shuddered somewhat at the revolting thought. "I do not know which BLU Medic it is, but I have heard true horror stories about him. Far worse than the usual horror stories surrounding Medics."

"Ah, yeah, no, not a Medic." Not that he would be stupid enough to chase after one of those anyway.

"Good. Just, leave them all be. No matter how tempted you might find yourself--"

"It's not a Medic--"

"--No matter how drunk you get--"

"--I'm not goin' fer a Medic. I don't like older men--"

"--or even on a dare--"

"It's A Sniper! Alright?! I'm Interested In A BLU Sniper!"

Spy clammed up quicker than a turtle pulling his head into his shell and had about the look of one with the way his eyes almost bugged in disbelief (well, actually, they didn't even come close. Spy had better control than that, however he knew the masked man well enough to tell when he was true and wholly shocked by something).

Demo blinked hard and put the cork back into his Scrumpy.

Eventually Spy was able to open his mouth again. "Isn't that... just a little narcissistic for you?"

"No! He's, well, different! He's younger," which was about all of the extent that he knew.

"Oho," Spy had gone from shocked and scandalized to playfully mischievous at those words, "so now you're a cougar, interested in younger men? No, wait, perhaps, as a man, that would make you a bobcat."

Sniper glared flatly at him. "I hate you."

"Merow~," Spy even balled up a hand and mimicked a cat's paw.

"Why are we even friends?"

"Because laddie," Demo had clapped him on the shoulder, "friends tease each other, on occasion. That, and when it counts we have each others' backs."

Eh, fair enough he supposed. Technically they had given him some advice... which reminded him. "So... about makin' it work..." He turned back to Spy. "You and that lady's kid... how does that go?"

Spy shrugged neutrally. "How else? I stab him in the back, he bashes my skull in, we pretend not to know each other over 'family' dinner."

Well, didn't that sound lovely? "Right. Demo?"

The poor Scott could only sigh, "When it did work... we didn't take the work personally. A day job is a day job and the weekends were who we really were. We were ourselves with each other when it mattered most and we just tried to have fun with things while on the job."

"Fair enough," Sniper had given the pair of them a lopsided smile, "thanks fer that. I think I have a bit of a game plan now."

"Good ta hear," Demo had saluted with his closed bottle.

"Yeah, so I'll leave you two... to it." Not bothering to find out what 'it' was going to be tonight he bid both men goodnight and left them to each other's company.

Really, there were just some things in life he preferred would stay a mystery.

 

* * * * * *

 

The kid had to have been a transfer, not that Sniper was anywhere closer to catching up to him. Maybe it was accurate to say that he was even further than before. He'd started taking more transfers just to see if any of the other teams had run into him. Eventually he'd have to run across the young man, no matter how slippery he was being.

It happened late one night at the Double Cross (okay, it always seemed to be night there, but that wasn't the point). He had been wondering what the hell a man like him was even doing there. The place was all tunnels with crap vantage points for shooting people at range, unless he wanted to get shot at range too. Even knowing that he'd gone in with his Huntsman to make a sweep from the RED base towards the enemy line. Unlike last time he'd been the one to surprise the boy coming down to the sewers. They had stared at each other for a moment as if realizing the gravity of the situation. Then, without any visible signal, the younger BLU had turned and bolted back the way he'd come.

"Oi!" Sniper had immediately given chase.

He followed the boy doggedly but wasn't prepared for being comparatively out of shape (age before beauty indeed!). Even though he kept up a good pace it still wasn't enough to keep level with the boy. He chased him all the way to the train bridge and lost him in the cavern where even the echo of Engie's music didn't reach. He knew the youngster hadn't backtracked past him into the RED base again, there was no really way to have snuck by him. That only left pressing forward into enemy territory.

But as he was going up the first few steps out of the sewers into the BLU base it was like he'd rolled his ankle on some stones and he fell back into the water with a loud yelp and even louder swearing. He looked down to see that everything was quickly coloring red and, "Did that little wanker shoot me?!"

"Truly did."

That voice--that similar but totally different accent! He looked over and saw a submachine gun aimed at him. Oh, he had so much wrong with his judgment that day for him to still like the boy with a weapon pointed his way. He was even smiling, brighter than a sunrise, even as he realized now wasn't the time. "Fancy meetin' you here."

"Seemed like tha place ta be," his voice was a little mellow, possibly from British Australia? But then how easy was it for all the Spys to pretend they were French? Little white lies to keep the game more interesting they said. Did this boy do the same?

"I'd hoped we'd meet under better circumstances."

"Not taday." His counterpart repositioned the barrel, drew an invisible bead over his heart (a sense of humor then).

"We get off the clock sometime," he quickly threw out, knowing his time was limited at best.

The BLU paused, seemed to consider things for a moment. Sniper's heart lifted a bit as it seemed he was getting through...

Then he shrugged, "We'll see wot it's loike then," and unloaded his clip into the disillusioned RED.

Waking up in respawn was sobering and he knew everything about the young man was nothing as it seemed. Once again he'd been shot down in cold blood by his angel in BLU jeans. He tried to sit up only for his head to spin and a gentle hand to clasp his shoulder and steady him.

"Whoa there," Engineer's voice had filtered through.

"Oh, oh, ohhh, that is my head," it felt like someone had taken hammers to the inside of his skull.

"Yeah," the technician laughed, "ya can say that again."

"Whoa ohhh oohhh ooohhh, my head is killin' me," for no good reason.

The other sighed amusedly at his poor joke. "I'll bet it is. Ye'r that Sniper that transfered in fer tha day, right?" He kept his hand in place to prevent the gunner from getting up.

Which had Sniper frowning mildly at him. "Yeah. What of it?"

"System's not used to kickin' ya back up. Re-spawn here can be temperamental. Relax a bit, we're holding the line." The way he said it didn't make it sound like he had a choice. "Ya ain't use to nobody if ya can't aim straight."

"Sure," Sniper finally let his body relax and the tension bleed out. "Stupid kid."

"Mmm? Our Scout give ya some trouble?" Engineer relaxed his grip, but didn't dare let go just yet.

"No.... Sniper-kid. On the BLU side," he tried not to groan at the loudness of his own voice.

The southerner's face brightened at that. "Oh, that little rascal? Yeah. He's been bouncing around here fer a spell. He must live on the transfer circuit."

Again Sniper grunted an affirmation. "Wanted to... meet up with him. He... come here frequently?"

Engineer gave him a hard and searching look. "I know what the Sphais say about revenge but ye'r better off jus' letting it go."

"That's not," Sniper sighed when his head began to throb. "I just... wanted... to talk."

There was another pause from the machinist, as he really looked the lanky marksman over. "Son, I'm not sure what all ye'r up to, but I can assure you it's probably a bad idea."

"Yeah," Sniper smiled lopsidedly, "I'd sussed that out a while back."

That only made the other man sigh and shake his head. "Then, if I can't persuade ya otherwise, I'll say this: people like him don't stay at any one base for long. They are, more or less, professional temps. Yer best bet of meeting up with him is gonna be on the bases, because he's not the type to go out on weekends into any of the closer cities or towns. Ye'r just lucky the companies will provide vans and some cars to anyone who needs them for work."

"So, what? Work out who he is, where he's keeping shop and go from there?" Maybe it was the Re-spawn issues or the pain talking, but the idea didn't sound half bed.

"Something like that," Engineer smiled. "At least there are places ya can go in the area where ya'll be more likely to find him...."

Sniper was only too happy to listen.

 

* * * * * *

 

Some days he only mildly disliked Grey Mann. Today Sniper absolutely loathed him and would have visited upon him horrible, crippling, agonizing death if it had been within his power to do so.

It wasn't, so he was taking it out on the robots instead.

The problem with most robot attacks was that they could happen at any time and usually did so without warning. In those cases the bases under attack had to scramble and anyone available, RED or BLU, jumped on the pile. This, however, was a big one, a huge, planned out mess that would be chewing up resources from BLU, RED and Mann Co. When the companies had warning of these kinds of attacks things were less hectic and memos made the rounds informing all interested parties.

According to Engineer his nameless crush (he was done kidding himself, thanks) liked to take on the Robots for the extra hazard pay. So Sniper had, when the first opportunity presented itself, signed himself up for a stint at Bigrock.

And the place had well earned the name. Everything was huge and there were boulders everywhere. It was hot, crazy, people were yelling even at the best of times, voices calling out just a moment before someone almost knocked him over. With a disgusted huff Sniper got out of the way and headed for a wall, almost falling down several times from the pitfalls of careless teammates.

He'd done this dance before and thought that protocol had gotten better over the months. Instead of everyone meeting up in one space and going over strategy before the waves started, REDs and BLUs were running back and forth as soon as they teleported in. It was clear no one knew each other and yet every man seemed to already know what he was doing.

"Terrific," he snorted derisively, just what they needed, everyone out for themselves. He was content to watch the others sort themselves out from his position of relative safety. (It was almost comical the amount of Spies in the area and the way they all frowned disapprovingly when a Scout so much as looked their way. Then again, most Scouts were annoying little shits so it probably didn't mean anything.)

"You look a mite lost. Haven't see ya around here bafore."

"Did the run a ways back, however many months ago the troubles here started." He turned, already expecting a fellow Sniper. He registered the BLU jeans and shirt before taking the other man's face and when he did Sniper swore his heart could have pounded right out of him--Uber Unit and all.

"Yeah, well, things change," the young BLU (practically a boy!) with the British-Australian accent mused. "Gotta be on top ah tha game, iff'n ya want ta keep ye'r head on. C'mon," he pushed off from the wall and started to walk a bit away, expecting the older RED to follow.

For a moment Sniper just stared after the boy, before his brain functions kicked back in and he was scrambling to keep up. Hell, this was what he'd been hoping for, a bit silly to let the opportunity pass him by. "Oy, where we goin'?"

"Up top," the BLU made a general upwards motion with his left hand. "Best view of tha place."

'Up top' turned out to be sitting on the highest point humanly reachable of the main building in the defender's corner--the roof of the Mann Co. property. They wouldn't be able to access it again once the fighting started, but it provided a good overview of the land for now. Of course it also provided Sniper with all the privacy he could stomach to attempt a rather... _personal_ conversation with the lad. He wasn't a fool though, business before pleasure, and it would probably be better to start off slow.

"So," he finally broke the silence after gazing around for a bit, "you do this a lot in your spare time?"

"Loads," Blu grinned and looked back at him. "Nervous?"

"Nah," Sniper answered before he could think otherwise. "Just curious, is all. If ya had to guess, how much time do ya think we've got before the bots get here?"

The younger man bit his bottom lip and gazed out over the base. "Three days tops. Enough toime fer everyone ta get their heads outta their arses--same as always."

"Oh, that sort of bunch then?" He'd had to team up with a few REDs like that. "Any of them bring the old feuds to the fight?"

The kid shrugged (gods, was he even out of his twenties?), "Most do, but they get sorted soon enough. Bots don't care fer colors, juss if ye'r squishy or not."

Sniper made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgment before looking back outwards again. "Any advice ya have for this old hand?"

"Well," the boy looked back to him with a sparkle of cunning behind his aviators, "that depends on wot ya see w'en ya look out there."

The older mercenary glanced around for a long while, noting corners and rubble and other things of interest. Then he just shrugged. "I see a million different ways to never leave this metal maze alive. Once the bots come in--are there big ones?"

"Tons," Blu chirped back.

"Beaudy," he sarcastically drawled. "Next you'll tell me there are super Medic-Bots."

"Nah," the kid actualy laughed, "juss some Mecha Engineers."

Sniper put his face into his knees. "Ah piss."

"No worries, it's our job ta take 'em out."

"Double piss."

"Yeah, ye'r gonna want tha explosive headshots... an' resistance... maybe tha health on kill ones if things go particularly pare shaped."

"So ya do this a lot, eh?" Sniper tried to switch the topic to something less depressing, face still buried in his knees.

"Already asked that," the kid shot back with an amused tone.

"Work with me."

There was a small sigh followed by another beat of silence. "I kin walk ya through tha basics. S'all roight iffin' ya wanna stay close once tha waves start. Not a bad idea ta have more than one ah us inna spot ta shoot Mechas--'sides we kin watch each others' backs."

Smiling ruefully the older gunman turned his head to spare one eye in the kid's direction. "Yeah... Sounds like a good plan ta kill three days with." The boy was cheeky enough to smirk right back. 

 

* * * * * *

 

Sniper woke with a start coughing up blood as he did so. Or, well, it felt like he had. His chest had been blown open hadn't it? There had been bots and--

Someone was holding him. He'd awakened in someone's arms. In his van--wait was it? It was off, somehow strange and so familiar... a safe place where nothing could go wrong regardless if he was barely alive or nearly dead... somehow awake in his own camper's bed when respawn did _not_ drop people off in their personal quarters.

"Oi, ya wit' us yet?"

His foggy mind refocused on the other presence. BLU shirt and pants... "Kid?" His eyes trailed up to see the youngster genuinely smiling down at him.

Blu chuckled slightly. "And there ya are. Gave us a right scare ya did."

Sniper made a noncommittal grunt finding that it was too much effort to give his answer any further thought.

"Figured ya'd say that," the younger rolled his eyes though he continued to smile as he did. "We're outta Bigrock, iffin' ya were wonderin'."

Actually he had been now that the boy mentioned it. "Wot... happened?" And why did thinking hurt?

"Durin' or after ceasefire?"

It seemed like a strange clarification to Sniper and he motioned for the lad to just give him the whole story.

"Ya got lit up loike Sissmass." He waved away any self depreciating remarks the older man was about to think. "Happens on occasion--'swhy I don't take a point alone. Nah, everythin' was on tha highway headed my way an' ya stepped in ta take a knife fer me. Once they suss out where us Snipers are they bring tha heat." He shook his head wistfully at that. "Ya were really sumthin' mate. Devil himself couldn't kill ya."

"Feels... like... he did." Sniper grimaced at the pain just talking invoked.

Blu laughed at his comment. "Ain't wot knocked ya down though. Made it through every wave, ya did. Barely at some points, died a bit here an' there only ta bounce back up loike a pro. After it all though," there was amusement clearly plastered over his face, "celebrations were a bit much."

Oh hell, he got _drunk_? How could that even be possible? Didn't even feel like a proper hangover...

"Yeah, sum ah tha men got a bit _enthused._ Victory high-fives, bone-crushing bear-hugs, jumpin' about and, well," the young marksman snickered a bit, "ya got a sound thump ta tha noggin."

Well that sounded wholly undignified: knocked out by a flying hug-tackle? There had to have been more to the story. More importantly, "Why're... we in... my van?"

Blu paused from turning around enough for Sniper to see how very still his whole body went. "We're in moine."

Oh.

Oh!

Oh... he was dumb. Actually he was probably half out of his mind on something for the pain if the boy was any sort of decent. He absently tracked the other gunner as he looped off to somewhere before returning with a small glass of water and a tablet. "Here, fer ya head."

With a bit of help the seasoned professional managed to sit up and not choke on the liquid. It took a little more effort for the painkiller to go down but it was worth it once everything stopped throbbing. Life still felt like it was but a dream he was just ready to take some control of said dream. "So... other than being a fool... why am I _here_?" In the kid's bed he belatedly realized.

He expected many things of his counterpart but a roguish grin wasn't one of them. "It's obvious that things didn't go ta plan--though we won tha day to be sure. In tha clean up afterward it was hell tryin' ta parse out where ta send ya. Ya aren't a regular at tha rock, no one knew who ya were wit', so I figured I'd drag ya back wit' me."

"An' wot brought on this good charity?" A part of him hoped very fervently that it wasn't anything altruistic.

The younger man let his eyes hood oh so slightly. "I loike older men. An' this way," the BLU got up and leaned over him--well he was in the boy's bed already so maybe that was fair? "Ya kin stop chasin' me round tha circuit."

Bugger all. "Noticed that, eh?" he failed spectacularly at nonchalance.

"Lil' bit, yeah." With another chuckle he sat back on the bed. "We ain't a subtle breed ah folk. Welcome ta TeuFort, by tha by."   

And wasn't that an answer to his most important question? "All this time you were from _central_ \--" he could have kicked himself, he wanted to laugh himself out of the bed.

"No need ta dwell in tha past," the younger man didn't have his boots on--something Sniper absently noted when he pulled his legs up onto the bed. "The present is lookin' much more interestin' anyway," and with that he started to lean in with some very clear intentions.

Well then, the older man grinned wildly at the turn of events, maybe they had both been shot down by love, he and his angel in BLU jeans.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be my Sniper OC, Salamander King aka 'Bruce Ryne', with some nameless RED.... Jury is still out on that.
> 
> Reblog on [tumblr.](http://journalforblu.tumblr.com/post/110694481242/angel-in-blu-jeans)


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